The End - A Warriors Story
by callousfinch
Summary: The end is nigh. ThunderClan will be the first to fall . . . at the clap of thunder, everything you know will be over. Prepare for the end . . .
1. Chapter 1

A clap of thunder will renounce the end of the world as you know it.

Squirrelstar was ill. Her breathing was ragged and hoarse; she hacked out sticky bile in bleating coughs. Jayfeather, with solemn eyes, stood over his adopted mother, caressing her fur in a vain attempt to ease her suffering.

Jayfeather knew.

Nothing was working. The remedies he compiled and fed to Squirrelstar were ultimately ineffective. The fact was, this wasn't a simple cold - not even greencough. No. Something much worse was going on. Something Jayfeather had no cure for.

Age.

Squirrelstar was an old, old cat.

Admittedly, so was he. Reaching the end of his years in fact. He still had a bit longer to go - he hoped - but not long. Soon, he too would pass into the ranks of StarClan.

A tear dripped down the medicine cat's pale cheek. First his father, now his mother. Leafpool. Both adoptive parents and his biological mother - gone. He didn't know for sure if Crowfeather, his biological father, was still alive or what, but he didn't really care. Bramblestar was more of a father to him than Crowfeather ever was.

Squirrelstar gasped. She closed her eyes and wheezed heavily for a few moments. Jayfeather stared down at her, his chest heaving with sorrow. Then Squirrelstar's eyes opened. "Son," she gasped.

Jayfeather leaned in. "I'm here, mother," he whispered.

Squirrelstar struggled vainly to focus her gaze on him. "My sweet son," she got out. "I've missed Bramblestar so very much since he died. He was wrong about me - I've been a worthless leader. I could never -"

She began to cough again. Jayfeather crouched down, putting his side against hers. "Shhh," he urged, tears falling down his muzzle. "Don't talk. You're just hurting yourself."

"I have to," Squirrelstar hacked. "Just - let me - tell you - how much . . . I love you."

Jayfeather pressed his nose to her ear. "I know, mom," he whispered.

"ThunderClan has fallen apart because of me. Your new leader will make it right, though. I know he will. He is strong. Brave." Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "This is the end. But I'm not afraid. I'm going to be with Bramblestar. My mother. My father. They will comfort me. StarClan bless you, Jayfeather - the only child I have left."

Jayfeather felt himself shaking with sobs. "I can't do this, mother," he cried.

But it was too late. She was already gone.

Her body went still. Her eyelids slid over her still beautiful eyes, for the final time. They would never open again. Those eyes - they were hollow forever now.

Jayfeather knew he should go down and announce to the Clan - what was left of it - that Squirrelstar had died, but he couldn't. Instead he lay there sobbing uncontrollably. He was alone.

There was no one left but him.

* * *

Hours later Jayfeather stumbled down from the High Ledge. He realized that it was raining - cold drops of the substance fell onto his coat, making him cold. But he didn't shiver - he was far too numb.

He didn't want to address the Clan from the High Ledge. He would do it on the ground. After all, he wasn't their leader. He was on the same level as them.

As he climbed down, cats began to slip into the clearing from their dens. He heard he sodden clump of wet paws in the clearing. He knew Briarlight would be watching - from within the confines of the lightless Medicine Cat's den, aka her prison.

The Clan assembled.

Their fur was matted and dirty. At this point, some of them couldn't even be bothered to wash their fur. At least the rain would help do something about that. It continued to pour down as Jayfeather stepped up to address the remnants of ThunderClan.

They crowded around him, eager but filled with dread. They already knew what had happened.

Jayfeather swallowed. He didn't care that his voice shook when he said, "My friends, alas! Squirrelstar is dead. She has passed into the ranks of StarClan."

There were a few caterwauls of grief from cats who knew Squirrelstar her whole life - Thornclaw was one of those who cried out - but the others remained silent, much to Jayfeather's dismay. A couple of them even looked satisfied. Horror prickled his pelt. Sure, Squirrelstar hadn't been the most effective leader, but - but - she was Squirrelstar! Surely they hadn't forgotten everything she did for the Clan in her younger years! She was sick - sick with grief over the death of Bramblestar. That wasn't her felt. Any cat might have ended up the same way!

"What are we going to do?" a shrill voiced asked. Jayfeather turned his head. He thought he recognized Rosepetal's sweet voice, tinged with fear.

"We're going to survive, that's what," Jayfeather answered her. "With our newly-appointed leader, Dewnose, to lead us, ThunderClan will once again become strong."

All heads turned toward Dewnose, the new leader. The tom stood proudly and gave a definitive nod. "Indeed. This is not the end. Don't forget we've survived worse - floods, fires, undead cats - we will make it out of this too, or my name's not Dewstar."

"That's not your name yet. We still have to hold the ceremony," Jayfeather reminded him.

"Forget that. There's no time. I have to build this Clan up out of the ashes Squirrelstar left it in," Dewnose replied.

Jayfeather bared his teeth and lunged at Dewnose. "That is my _mother_ you're speaking about!" he hollered furiously, lashing out with a forepaw.

Dewnose leapt back, howling in fear. Jayfeather longed to rake his claws down the tom's face - but suddenly a weight landed on him from behind. He hollered and squirmed under the impressive weight. "Get off me you oaf!" he screeched.

The weight lifted. Jayfeather scrambled to his feet, turning his head left and right, wishing for all the world that he could see.

"I'm sorry, Jayfeather, I had too," a voice meowed apologetically.

"Mousewhisker," Jayfeather spat. "Do that again and I'll flay you alive, got it? No one disrespects my kin. No one!"

There was a silence. Nothing but raindrops clattering on the ground.

"Okay," Jayfeather said, calming down. "We'll hold the ceremony immediately. Then we can start reworking the Clan into a manageable state. Just let's not forget the tradition passed down to us from our ancestors, for StarClan's sake! Woe to any cat who breaks tradition!"

At that, there was a collective whimper of fear. It satisfied Jayfeather.

"Now, let's have the ceremony," Jayfeather meowed.

Jayfeather walked back to the High Ledge and began to climb the mountain of rocks. Using only his ability to feel, the blind medicine cat made it up to the top of the largest walk and stood on the edge, where he knew the Clan was standing at the bottom.

"By the powers invested in me," he began, "And by the will of StarClan -"

Suddenly, light flared up in the clearing. Jayfeather knew it was there because of the way the cats in the clearing gasped in alarm. The flash was immediately followed by the single loudest bleat of thunder Jayfeather had ever heard, and in shock he leapt forward.


	2. Snowbush

Moons passed.

* * *

Snowbush crept around in the undergrowth, sniffing for prey. His chest screamed in agony; his belly was hollow as a log. It had been ages since it was full - or even comfortable.

He needed to eat.

He thought that today he might just get lucky. He smelt out a trail and was following it. He could just imagine feasting upon the plump rodent he was pursuing. His mouth watered involuntarily at the thought.

Closer, closer. The rodent was stationary. He could just see it through the ferns - crouching, its front paws pulled up to its face, chewing a nut. Snowbush salivated and crept nearer. He used every bit of warrior training he could remember to ensure he got this meal.

Closer - closer . . .

He leapt. But as he did, a noise distracted him greatly. He landed funny on his front paw, and stumbled. The rodent was gone, hidden within the grass, before he could swipe at it.

But he didn't care.

That noise he heard . . . that call . . .

It was a cat he knew from long ago.

Without another thought, Snowbush sped off in the direction he heard the cry. He was weak from hunger and mistreat, but still, he ran. Forced himself to move faster and faster. There was little time. Somehow, he knew that time was short for the cat he heard.

If it was her, that was.

On and on he ran. Eventually he broke out into a clearing, totally breathless, feeling like he was going to pass out. He stared.

There. Rosepetal. She was trapped, corner by two brutish calicos. The toms bared down on the she cat.

She screamed again.

"ROSEPETAL!" Snowbush cried, and surged forward.

The two calicos wheeled around and stared at him, shocked.

"Who're you?" one of them gaffed.

Snowbush slowed to a standstill. "My name -" he gasped, "- is . . ."

The calicos leapt at him, knocking him down before he could flee. He felt sharp talons pierce the fur on his back. He screeched in pain and fury.

"Maybe you'll do instead, for our plans," one of the brutes said. He laughed horribly.

"Leave him alone!" That was Rosepetal. The once-graceful, once-Clan cat jumped onto one of the calicos, sinking her teeth into his neck. He yelped and jumped back, falling on his back in an attempt to get her off him. Snowbush yielded a move he learned as an apprentice in training - he flipped around and kicked out with his back paws, right into the belly of his attacker, causing him to fly off. Snowbush leapt to his feet and ran to help Rosepetal, who was now on the ground, writhing under the weight of the well-fed calico cat. Snowbush jumped onto him and raked him _viciously_ with his talons, causing blood to spill out of the wounds. The calico bellowed in fury and batted him away. Snowbush hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him.

"I'll deal with the girl! You finish him off!" one of the calicos said to his friend.

"With pleasure," his friend replied. He stalked toward Snowbush, practically salivating. "That really hurt you know," he told him feebly. "I'm going to make sure you pay for those cuts."

Snowbush knew death was immediate. A painful one for that matter. Well, that was a fate he wasn't inclined to have.

As the calico neared to pounce on him, Snowbush jumped forward unexpectedly. He had one certain target. Only one. He opened his jaws and then clamped down on . . .

. . . the calico's eyeball.

The cat screamed in anguish. But Snowbush wouldn't have mercy. He ripped his muzzle away, taking the cat's eye with it. Blood spewed out. Horrible. It stuck to his pelt, filled his mouth.

The now one-eyed calico fell onto his back, kicking out spasmodically, lashing his talons around, screaming, screaming, guttural screams.

"Shut up!" Snowbush howled. He jumped on the cat, cautiously avoiding his flailing limbs. He searched for the tom's neck and found it - he lunged his head down and bit the soft flesh. The tom struggled, desperate to loosen Snowbush's hold, but the ex-warrior wouldn't allow it. He held on fast. Felt blood vessels bursting under his teeth. With satisfaction, he knew it was finally over.

The cat stopped kicking.

Snowbush released him, looking down for a moment, then glanced up. The other calico was staring at him in horror, still standing over Rosepetal, who was pretty much motionless.

"DID YOU KILL HER?" Snowbush demanded, absolutely furious.

"NO! NO!" the calico responded, his eyes wide with terror.

"GET OUT OF HERE NOW! OR I SWEAR I'LL TEAR BOTH OF YOUR EYES OUT!" Snowbush screamed.

His enemy didn't need to be told twice. Without a second's hesitance he wheeled around and took off in the direction of the trees, his tail under his legs.

Snowbush stood panting, covered in the blood of his foe. Then he shifted his attention to Rosepetal's motionless body. To his horror, he saw blood seeping off of her.

No!

He ran forward, ran to her. "Rosepetal?" he whispered, still shaking. "I'm here, Rosepetal."

Rosepetal opened her eyes, blinked feebly. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

Snowbush panted. "No problem," he said gently.

"I . . . I don't think I can make it . . ." Rosepetal meowed.

"No, no, you can. You can make it. I didn't just tear a cat's eye out for nothing; please, Rosepetal," Snowbush begged.

"I'm sorry," Rosepetal answered.

"Rosepetal! Don't you dare close your eyes! I . . . I can find something . . . something to patch your wounds. I'll give you herbs. I'll take care of you!"

"You've already done everything you can do," Rosepetal whispered, offering a weak grin. "I never told you . . . if things hadn't gone bad . . . I would have asked you to be my mate."

Tears stung Snowbush's eyes. Somehow, these were worse than his wounds.

"Rosepetal. I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you too. Thank you for saving me."

With that, she fell silent and closed her eyes.

"Rosepetal? Rosepetal? No. NO! You can't! You're . . . you're the only one . . . besides me . . . who's left! NO! NO! NO!"

He went on and on, lamenting, begging Rosepetal to return. He just couldn't bare the thought that he might be the only ThunderClan cat left alive.

"WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO US, STARCLAN?!" Snowbush demanded, tears streaming down his muzzle. "WHY?! ANSWER ME!"

But there was no answer.


End file.
